


The Witching Hour

by CalifornianHouseplant



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, Halloween, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s07e17 All Things, Road Trips, Season 7 (The X Files), Siblings, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalifornianHouseplant/pseuds/CalifornianHouseplant
Summary: When Scully receives an unexpected call from an old friend who has something of Melissa's, she spontaneously invites Mulder to come along with her to collect it. They may have recently become lovers, but that doesn't mean they've actually talked anything through...Along the road to Salem, Scully contemplates her past, her sister, herself, and her rapidly changing relationship with Mulder.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: X-Files Secret Santa Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	The Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanaFox1013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaFox1013/gifts).



> PROMPT: Mulder and Scully end up in Salem Mass and/or Sleepy Hollow on/around Halloween. Can be case fic or a pleasure trip, whatever you prefer. 
> 
> NOTES: Set after 'all things' (season 7, episode 17), and definitely set prior to 'Hollywood A.D.' (s07e19) and 'Requiem' (s07e22). This story also contains an adaptation of a line of dialogue from a cut scene from 'The Blessing Way' (s03e01).
> 
> UPDATE: Because I am a fool, I accidentally posted the completed, but still second-last draft, of this story initially, instead of its final, much longer form. All I can do is apologise profusely for this embarrassing screw-up.
> 
> (Originally posted on 26 December.)

Dana Scully is about 11 when her older sister Melissa goes through the first of her ‘witchy’ phases, devouring books about Wicca and witchcraft and druids and love spells, buying crystals and herbs and handmade leather-bound journals with thick pages in which to write her deepest thoughts.

Dana remembers the quiet concern expressed by their mother, and the considerably louder concern expressed by their father’s youngest sister, for whom Catholicism was a protective blanket, the weight of which only grew heavier as the years passed.

But Dana remembers their father – Captain Williams Scully, a deeply Christian man down to the very marrow of his bones – and his calm acceptance of what he called ‘Missy’s spiritual phase’.

 _“Maggie, Melissa hasn’t turned her back on God,”_ Dana had overheard her father saying his wife and mother-in-law one Sunday evening. _“God gave humankind free will, and created us to be curious. Faith isn’t merely blind acceptance, and He does not ask us for any such thing. It’s about asking questions, seeking answers, thinking things through. That’s all Missy is doing.”_

 _“She’s embracing Pagan rituals!”_ Dana’s aunt had cried.

 _“Katie, Missy is Celtic and Anglo-Saxon on both sides,”_ William Scully had replied. _“It’s little wonder she’s drawn to the practices and traditions of her ancestors. We all know that some of these ancient Pagan traditions are also practiced within Christianity,” –_ Dana vividly recalls hearing her aunt’s sharp intake of breath at those words – _“and it is clear that she is not doing anything that goes against God. I will not interfere until I come to possess such fear, based on reasonable grounds. I would hope that no one else interferes with Missy’s natural curiosity, either, as these explorations will likely return her to her faith with stronger convictions that she would have otherwise.”_

And, despite everything that followed that was terrible and unfair and devastating, Dana still had to smile when she thought of it now. As, although Missy had embraced mysticism and spirituality and other ‘new age’ beliefs, she had never turned her back on God or a higher power. Her faith far outweighed Dana’s own.

So, in the end, their father had been proven right.

* * *

The moment she claps eyes on Daniel Waterston again – and unexpectedly – after so many years, Scully knows that she is at risk of falling into a deep, dark pit of uncertainty and despair and _regret_.

It’s not that Scully had never questioned her choices. Her abduction, her cancer, her infertility, Melissa’s death…all these events made her wish she’d made different choices.

But, looking at Mulder, seeing him smile at her across the pizza delivered from their favourite hole-in-the-wall, smiling in that soft, intimate way she knows he saves only for her, she cannot regret _this_.

Scully has to smile at Mulder, and at herself, in that moment. _This_. It is still so… _new_ , this…whatever-it-is between her and Mulder.

“What is it, Scully?” he asks her.

Scully shakes her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

The oven dings, signalling that the garlic bread is ready, and Mulder gets up to retrieve it from the oven.

Her smile widens as he retrieves fresh garlic from the shelf and starts mincing it, knowing instinctively that the bread isn’t garlicky enough for her liking. Watching him, Scully ponders. This lack of…title, for what they have. Should that bother her? But does it need a title? Does one even exist which explains it?

Scully has a random flash of memory then, back to early college and a friend complaining that the guy she’d been seeing for three months wouldn’t ‘make it official’: _“I just don’t know what he’s thinking!”_

Looking back at Mulder, watching him potter around her kitchen, perfecting the garlic bread to her personal liking, Scully has to smile to herself. Mulder could be a difficult, complicated, _infuriating_ man. But he had never provided Scully with any reason to doubt his commitment – his _devotion_ – to her.

If anything, it makes her wish that she had taken Mulder up on his offers, however subtle they were, to start up…whatever this is…much earlier on.

* * *

When Dana is 13, her father is stationed to San Diego. At school, Melissa makes friends with a group of five girls who refer to themselves collectively as ‘the Baby Coven’ (which Dana was always perplexed by) and they take road trips up to the city to go to stores with ‘Apothecary’ or ‘Shoppe’ or ‘Mystic’ or ‘Magick’ in their names.

Two of Missy’s new friends have older sisters who are members of their own, larger coven – the ‘Coven of the Guiding Hand’ – which Dana understands is ‘mentoring’ the Baby Coven. These older girls and their friends earn critical bonus points from Captain and Mrs Scully because they always accompany Missy and her friends on their trips around the city.

Lilith, the leader of the six-member Coven of the Guiding Hand, makes a particularly positive impression on their mother: _“Such nice girls, protecting their little sisters and their friends like that,”_ Mrs Scully always said.

To this day, Dana still isn’t sure how much her parents knew about the ‘witchy’ element to these friendships of Missy’s. She only knows that her parents trust these girls, because they encouraged her to accept the invitation to accompany Missy and her friends on their trips.

Sometimes, on their hunt for specialised books and crystals and herbs and candles, they’d go even further afield to San Francisco and Los Angeles, with one of Missy’s friend’s older sister chaperoning them. Dana finds herself going along on these trips, too.

The shops Dana attends with the girls are oddly fascinating, so different to the clean, modern lines of plastic, glass and metal of suburban and city drug stores. They are full of jars of dark glass in timber cabinets, scented candles, essential oils, leather-bound books, crystals in every possible colour, with tapestries draped on the walls and strangely soothing ‘new age’ music emanating from unseen speakers.

Despite her scepticism, even at a young age, that this ‘witchcraft’ is anything other than young girls and women draped in layers gathering in circles in the woods to chant nonsense over shiny rocks, Dana found herself enjoying these expeditions. And she and Missy both bought some beautiful items during these trips, including a gorgeous wooden lock box Missy found in a little shop in Los Angeles. This wooden box – covered in intricate carvings and somehow always smelling of potpourri – always accompanied Missy on her travels, wherever she went, and Dana long coveted it.

Whether it’s the company and camaraderie of Missy and the other girls, or the freedom of knowing she can get out and about somewhere interesting with her big sister, and all with her parents’ approval, Dana isn’t sure.

But she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

* * *

It doesn’t matter how many years pass: to Scully, Missy’s absence is sometimes still so painful that it is literally breathtaking. Something might remind Scully of her sister – a waft of vanilla, the sound of a crackling fireplace, the sight of her handwriting on an old letter – and sometimes she has to step away, take a deep breath, silently count to five, or even ten.

The day Scully receives an unexpected call from Lilith Anderson, who she hasn’t seen since in person since the Christmas after her cancer went into remission (which was the first time she’d seen her since Missy’s funeral), for just a moment, Scully feels like she’s going to keel over.

“Dana, I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue,” Lilith says, her Irish accent still intriguingly strong after more than twenty years in the US. “Are you well?”

Scully has to smile; Lilith was always thoughtful. “I am, thank you, Lili. How are you? I’m so sorry that I haven’t been in touch.”

Lili laughs. “Oh, Dana, don’t you worry about that! I know you’ve had an awful lot going on. But, I must admit, I am calling you today in the hope you might come and see me.”

“Oh?” Scully asks. “Lili, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, Darling!” she replies. “I’m perfectly all right. But something’s arrived here for you. I’d post it to you, but I’m worried it might get lost in the post, or broken.”

“For me?” Scully asks. “From who?”

There’s a moment of silence before Lili responds. “It’s from Melissa.”

* * *

Scully is still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the switched-off TV, when Mulder arrives home, grocery bags in his arms.

“Scully?” he says.

Scully doesn’t hear him, too lost in her thoughts.

When Mulder gently puts his hand on her arm, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Whoa, I surrender!” he says, his hands up in the air.

“Sorry, Mulder, I’m so sorry,” Scully says, taking his hands in her own. “I was a million miles away. Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all,” he replies. “Scully, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Scully has to smile again: that laser focus of his is on centred on her, and it makes her feel like she and Mulder are the only two people currently inhabiting the planet. In that moment, to her genuine surprise, she knows that she does not want to – no, _cannot_ – take this trip without him.

“I’m okay, just a bit startled. I got a call from an old friend. She wants me to come and pick something up.”

Scully pauses for a moment. Normally, she’d never be this presumptuous. But she knows, instinctively, that Lili would love to meet Mulder, who she’d long heard so much about. She decides not to second-guess that instinct.

“Would you be willing to come on a road trip with me?” Scully asks.

“Of course!” he says. No hesitation. “Where are we going?”

Scully smiles again. “Salem,” she says, and she has to laugh when his eyes light up in response.

“Salem, Massachusetts?”

“The very same.”

"Right in time for Halloween?!" Mulder grins. “Skinner keeps bitching at us to use up some of our accrued holiday leave. When are we heading out?”

* * *

Sitting in AD Skinner’s office the next morning, Scully wonders – not for the first time – if their boss knows that her relationship with Mulder has…shifted.

Scully knows that Skinner is highly perceptive, and as he looks across his desk at the two of them through his round glasses, she has a very strong feeling that he knows exactly what is going on as they both tell him they would like to accept his offer to take some of their owed holiday time, effective as soon as possible.

In fact, Scully could swear that Skinner is trying not to smile.

“You both have three weeks off, effective immediately,” Skinner says with an eagerness that might offend Scully if she didn’t know that he was eternally worried about their high stress levels. “Take the rest of today off, but consider it a ‘bonus’ day off.”

“Thanks, sir!” Mulder pipes up, not at all perturbed by the stern looks he received from both Scully and Skinner in response.

Skinner very sternly tells them not to darken the door of _any_ FBI office _anywhere_ “unless there is a minimum of a DEFCON-3 level threat”.

The two agents nod obediently before going to their respective homes to pack.

* * *

There is no one else on planet Earth that Scully would be willing to sit in a car with for more than 450 miles than Mulder. She’s not even phased when he suggests driving the whole way as an alternative to flying or getting the train.

“We won’t even have to rent a car when we get there!” Mulder says, excitedly. “We can just please ourselves.”

Scully nods. “We can share the driving, too, Mulder,” she says, and Mulder smiles. The next words are out of her mouth before she’s even thought them through. “We can share hotel rooms, too, if you like, to save on costs.”

Mulder smiles at her, and makes a quip about FBI regulations and fraternisation, but Scully is pleased to see two things: first, that Mulder is surprised by her suggestion (to the point that he is actually blushing slightly), and second, that he is clearly _pleased_ by it.

“So, are you going to tell me what the rather brilliantly named Salem native Lilith has for you that she is too afraid to send to you in the post?” Mulder jokes as he takes the wheel when they get back in the car after their lunch stop. “Or is it Private Women’s Business?”

Scully smiles at him. “I have a confession to make, Mulder,” she says.

Mulder raises his eyebrows in a parody of shock.

“I actually forgot that I hadn’t told you what this trip was all about,” she admits.

Mulder’s laughter is glorious to hear.

“Lilith _is_ a witch,” Scully says, and she greatly enjoys the look of delight on Mulder’s face. “She’s an old friend of mine…of Melissa’s, actually.”

“Oh?”

Scully smiles softly at him, hoping to erase the lines of worry from his face. “She says she’s actually got something that Melissa wanted me to have.” Scully laughs at herself. “I’m not even entirely sure what it is.”

All of a sudden, that old grief hits Scully, and the breath threatens to leave her lungs. Out of sheer habit, she tries to hide it, but also longs for Mulder to comfort her despite the fact they are barrelling down the highway at sixty miles an hour.

As if attuned to her, he reaches over and takes her hand. She grips it, feeling Mulder’s warm skin against her own, the beat of his pulse.

In that moment, Scully feels Melissa with her as well, Missy’s voice strong in her memory. Years ago, when Mulder was missing after their jaunt to New Mexico, and Scully was distressed that Mulder was dead, Melissa had assured her that Mulder was alive.

 _“You have a connection with him that is strong and powerful, Dana,”_ Missy had told her. _“You are radiating with it.”_

To her shame, Scully had dismissed her sister’s input as superstition. But Melissa hadn’t been at all phased, and had merely smiled warmly and taken Scully in her arms when she told her that Mulder had been found.

Scully looks back to Mulder, and has to smile as Missy’s words come back to her: _“I told you, Dana. That man will never be far from your side.”_

Scully knows that Missy would be terribly pleased to see her and Mulder together. A more spiritual person would suggest that Missy had created the excuse for this road trip to give her and Mulder time together at a critical, blossoming point of their new relationship.

Mulder also seems to instinctively know that Scully needs to hear his voice. “So how did the good Catholic Scully girls make friends with a witch, anyway?”

And Scully has to laugh.

* * *

They agree to split the trip to Salem with an overnight stay. After all, what was the rush? Not that they discussed any logistical details. Scully knew it was ridiculous, but she felt sort of _nervous_ talking to Mulder about…well. _This_. She frowns to herself. She is a medical doctor, for pity’s sake, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other in various stages of undress prior to becoming…well. Lovers?

Scully wonders again if perhaps defining the relationship might be a good idea, if for no other reason than her own ease of reference. But is there a word or phrase in any language which sums up someone who is your FBI partner, your best friend, the person who you asked to be your sperm donor to your last-chance miracle baby, who you are now sleeping with?

 _Lovers,_ her mind supplies again, much to her annoyance.

But she also knows that it is accurate. Whenever she closes her eyes, she can still see the single-minded intensity on Mulder’s face as he made love to her, can still hear the declarations of undying love he whispered into her hair, can still feel him above her and under her and inside her…

“How about this place?”

Mulder’s voice breaks Scully out of her reverie, and she feels her cheeks heat as she realises she was probably gazing at him for several minutes prior. Mulder doesn’t look at all perturbed; indeed, he looks rather pleased, and again, Scully scolds herself for being so stupid. This isn’t just some guy she’s started dating after meeting through friends.

This is _Mulder_. _Her_ Mulder.

The man who is now patiently waiting for her to have her existential mini-crisis over which hotel to stay at. Belatedly, she realises they have stopped at the side of the road.

“Sorry?” she asks after a long moment.

Mulder just smiles softly at her, and motions to the building across from them. “Want to check out if that place has any vacant rooms?”

Scully has to grin: it is a colourful, multi-storey Victorian mansion with stained-glass windows and balconies and a tall turret that is straight out of one of the novels that Missy loved when she and Scully were teenagers.

Scully nods and doesn’t even protest to Mulder’s remark that “at least one ghost must still walk these halls”.

The woman who greets them at the front desk – whose name tag reads ‘Cressida’ – smiles serenely, with the same sort of inner peace that always makes Scully think of her sister. Rather than those usual feelings of loss, Scully feels strangely comforted by this.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Cressida says.

“Oh, no, we don’t have a booking,” Scully replies. “I think you’ve mistaken us for someone else.”

Cressida merely smiles. “Would you like the queen-size or king-size suite?” she asks.

This question had been asked of both Mulder and Scully numerous times over the years. In the early years, both had hurried to explain they were FBI partners, not a couple, and other than an occasional raised eyebrow, it inspired little reaction in hotel staff. In later years, to Scully’s annoyance and discomfort, these explanations were usually greeted by a knowing smirk at best, or a sympathetic smile at worst.

She remembers again that she and Mulder hadn’t discussed any of the logistics of this ahead of time, and she can feel the heat of Mulder’s gaze on her. She knows he is watching her, and that her reaction in this moment is critical to this fragile, new, precious _thing_ between them.

This precious, precious thing that is both unexpected and the most natural of progressions, exhilarating and secure and terrifying and protective.

“King-size, please,” Scully says, without hesitation. Cressida smiles and Mulder takes her hand and Scully feels lighter than air.

Mulder and Scully’s suite is on the top floor, and is clearly the one put aside for honeymooning newlyweds. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and Scully shares the sentiment with Mulder.

“You’re right, it is,” he replies, taking her in his arms.

She turns to face him, careful not to dislodge herself from his hold, and knows immediately that he was not referring to the beauty of the landscape.

But, instead of rolling her eyes at his corny line, she can’t help but grin as she leans forward and kisses him.

* * *

Exhausted and sated but somehow also wide awake as she looks at Mulder’s sleeping face, illuminated by the moonlight, Scully has to smirk at herself. She had never watched Marcus or Jack or even Daniel sleep. But she is perfectly content to lie there are just look at this man, to count his breaths and admire the curve of his lips and revel in the memory of the feel of them on her skin.

Fiddling with her crucifix – the same one which Mulder wore next to his heart in those months which he searched for her, Scully wonders. Was what she had felt for any other man even real, or was it just that those feelings pale in comparison to what she feels for the six-foot-tall mass of contradictions currently wrapped around her?

It wasn’t that Marcus and Daniel and Jack had never touched her heart. Of course they had. But, for Scully, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. She didn’t like the trust it involved, the vulnerability.

 _“You’ll never truly fall in love if you guard your heart, Dana,”_ Melissa’s voice floats up in her mind from long ago. _“The risk of getting hurt is part of that journey. Without that risk, there is no reward.”_

The intensity Daniel had shown Scully – both more than a decade ago, and again when she had seen him in the hospital only a few weeks ago – had…well, it had _unnerved_ her. She didn’t know what to do with it, or why she was worthy of deserving it. And the sheer pain of the betrayal she felt when she realised that he’d lied to her and _of course_ he was fucking married with kids…

Well, it had never left her. To the point that her emotional walls, which were close to unscalable in the first place, became completely impenetrable.

_"You would die for Mulder, but you won't allow yourself to love him."_

Scully’s lip curls at the memory of the Cigarette Smoking Man’s words. Not only because his poor attempt at reverse psychology was cold and presumptuous, but also because he was dead wrong.

What she feels for Mulder is positively all-consuming, burning everything else to dust in its wake. It embarrasses her that he is, all too often, all she can think about. Even before their relationship took this…turn. He had definitely taken up residence in her head – and, despite her best efforts otherwise, her heart – long, long ago. God forbid it ends badly, because Scully knows that there will be no digging him out.

She _does_ love Mulder. So much it frightens her.

The cynical part of her can only hope they don’t destroy each other.

But, looking at his face, the long-buried, optimistic, even _romantic_ , part of her rears to life.

Like the crucifix at her throat symbolises, she has to have faith.

* * *

Scully is exhausted the next morning, so tired that she doesn’t protest to Mulder fussing over her. She’s too tired to even try to convince herself that she’s not enjoying his attention.

Her basically carries her to the car, and she doesn’t even realise that they’d left the hotel until she wakes a couple of hours later, her hand resting on Mulder’s thigh.

“Hey, Sleepyhead,” Mulder says, smiling at her.

“Mulder, you should have woken me,” Scully says, horrified. She’s left him with all the driving on this trip she insisted they take.

“It’s fine, Scully,” he replies. “You needed the sleep. It’s not the best practice for safe driving to fall asleep at the wheel.”

She knows he is only teasing her, but she can feel her cheeks heat.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says. “I don’t mind, seriously. You know I like driving. I like it even better when you put your hand on my leg while I’m doing it.”

Scully surprises herself by laughing. “I was asleep!”

“Aw, Scully,” Mulder is all puppy-dog eyes. “Here I was hoping you find me so irresistible that you were reaching for me in your sleep.”

Scully blames the fatigue, but she doesn’t have it in her to protest. She just smiles at him, lets him have his victory. “How far away are we?”

“Only a few minutes, I think. See, the witch-themed Halloween decorations are getting thicker by the minute!” Mulder’s glee is infectious. “I’m looking forward to meeting this old friend of yours.”

Scully has to smile. “I think she’s looking forward to meeting you, too.”

* * *

Lili is sitting on the front porch of her own turreted, Victorian-style mansion when Scully and Mulder pull into the driveway. Lili has a book in her hand, but it’s obvious that she had stopped reading some minutes before. She has been expecting them.

“You didn’t tell me she was a redhead, Scully,” Mulder says, his grin only growing when Scully raises an eyebrow at him.

Scully can see Lili smile widely, and Scully can hear Lili’s numerous silver bangles jingling together as her old friend waves at them. She gets up, the hem of her long, layered skirt falling to her feet, and Scully smiles: no matter how many years have passed, she can still see the girl her 13-year-old self was desperate to impress: someone who just seemed so, for lack of a better word, cool.

Scully is about to apologise for bringing along an uninvited guest, but before she can even open her mouth, Lili is saying, “I’m so glad you had the good sense to bring that partner of yours along.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked you if it was okay,” Scully says.

Lili waves her hand, her bracelets jingling. “I would have been disappointed if you didn’t bring him along,” she says, taking Scully’s forearms. “Especially seeing as you’ve finally taken the next step with him.”

The scientist in Scully is startled, wondering what could possibly have given her away, but her inner 13-year-old is merely impressed.

“It’s written all over his face, the way he’s looking at you,” Lili says, answering Scully’s unasked question. “He’s even better looking in person, you know, and he photographs well.”

Scully has to smile with some pride at those words. “Well, I can’t claim credit for that.”

Lili’s eyes twinkle. “Ah, but there is an inner beauty to those in love, isn’t there?”

Scully doesn’t even have time to reply before Lili presses an envelope and a parcel into her hand.

“Before I forget,” Lili says. “This is yours, from Missy. But don’t rush. Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

Scully smiles. “Thank you, Lili,” she says.

“You are most welcome,” she replies, smiling warmly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get these to you sooner. I actually only just found them the day I called you.”

Before Scully can reply, Lili calls out to Mulder, and starts walking over to where he is patiently waiting, leaning on the car, watching them.

“Mr Mulder,” Lili says, gesturing to him. “You have been terribly patient. But, please, you are welcome here!”

She takes his outstretched hand in both her own, and his smile widens.

Lili speaks softly to Mulder, and although Scully could hear the words if she wanted to, she deliberately gives them privacy, focusing her attention on the envelope and parcel in her hands. The items smell of potpourri, and Scully has to smile: she knows these items had been kept in the wooden lock box Missy purchased at that little shop in Los Angeles so many years ago.

“Of course! I can show you the apothecary now, if you’d like,” Lili is saying to Mulder. “All potions are compounds, after all.”

Scully has to smile as Mulder puts his hand on the small of her back as the two of them approach her, excitedly discussing wiccan practices and traditional medicine. Lili and Mulder both smile at Scully as she nods them on. They know she’ll catch up. She just needs a moment to herself. For Missy.

Scully takes a seat on the sprawling front porch and opens the envelope, and seeing Missy’s familiar loopy scrawl takes Scully’s breath away. 

Before she reads the letter, though, a familiar, small rectangular box covered in black velvet catches her eye. Scully smiles, and opens it, already knowing what she will find: it is Melissa’s gold crucifix, the twin to her own.

Scully holds it up, dangling it from her fingertips, admiring its shine as the cool breeze ruffles her hair and the leaves and branches of the weeping willow which sits next to the house.

She can hear Lili and Mulder chatting and laughing in the conservatory, and her mother’s voice in her mind: “ _they’re still connected to us, Dana. Even after they’re gone_ ”.

And Scully is at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, DanaFox1013! I do hope you enjoyed this story. I must admit I initially had something quite different planned, and it swerved off in unexpected directions. (For a start, Melissa wouldn't leave me alone!) This is also the first 'X Files' story I have written in a very long time.
> 
> I'm also terribly sorry that I had to obtain an extension until 26 December from our lovely moderators. Without going into too much detail, I'm afraid the pandemic (and its side effects) have created some unexpected, intermittent complications for me, at work and at home, in the few weeks. 
> 
> I'm afraid this also caused my posting screw-up. The original version of the story posted was a complete work, but it was shorter this final version. (The difference being a few added lines in the earlier part of the story, and new material added on after the first version's original ending, which I decided was a bit abrupt.)
> 
> Onwards and upwards in 2021!


End file.
